Harry Potter and the Waged War Year 1
by namedawesome
Summary: Harry Potter is not the Boy-Who-Lived, Neville Longbottom is. Harry meets Hermione Granger and his life is changed. Neville isn't a very good hero, and Harry finds that out the hard way. Neville and Ron bashing. Please enjoy! I need feedback, so review.
1. Chapter 1

Ten-year-old Harry Potter sat in his room, well it wasn't really a room; it was more of a cupboard under the stairs. Ever since he arrived, he's had a miserable existence at Number Four Privet Drive. He only had three changes of clothes, one blanket (the one he arrived on the doorstep in), and his outdated, wire-rim glasses that have been broken time and time again. He was small for his age, had a mop of black hair that was impossible to tame, seemed to be the weakest child in his primary school, and had a jagged scar that traveled from above his left eyebrow, across his nose and onto his right cheek. The scar wasn't at all fascinating and looked as if it had been made by a rather large knife.

It was dinner time in Number Four, which meant that Harry was to stay in his cupboard until the family finished eating. Only after that would he be able to eat an old apple, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and a glass of tap water. He didn't mind, at least he got to eat most days. The only time they took away his food was when he got in trouble, and he was glad that wasn't often. On the rare occasion, Dudley would blame something on him and he'd get no food for a week. But sometimes there would be the odd incident that seemed to only happen in emergencies and when he was angry, sad, or embarrassed. That was when he'd go for weeks in his cupboard without food.

Those weren't the worst times of Harry Potter's miserable existence. He had horrible things happen to him. Not the normal childhood crushing things, but real horrors. He remembered the night his parents had been murdered. He couldn't see it, but he could hear it, hear them begging for his life, begging for each other's life. That's how Harry could tell his parents loved him and each other. His dad had begged the most for both their lives. It sounded as if James Potter was being tortured by his wife's screams more than anything else. The dreams were just icing on the cake, though. His real hell was the beatings. His uncle was ruthless; he didn't need a reason. Less than a toe out of line, and the belt was brought out. He had scars all over his back and more than a few burns on his arms from the stove eye from when he had burned dinner and needed to be taught a lesson. This treatment had caused him to want to end his life. He had tried many times only to be thwarted by an unseen force. After the third time, he had given up. He had just floated harmlessly to the ground.

Harry was more mature than most children. He was cautious and that led to him not trusting many people. He was a watcher. He watched people and figured out their next move. He shielded himself from emotions and seemed to forget he had any. He was intelligent, cunning, and calculated everything. He found out one day at school that he was an excellent chess player because of these traits. He closed himself off and rarely showed what he was really thinking. He knew when he was being used and seemed to manipulate that or call the person out. He never got a childhood, he knew he never would.

Harry was fiddling with the corner of the old blue blanket that he possessed and thinking of nothing in particular when his cupboard door was opened. He crawled out before he was scolded and stood waiting for his orders. "Clean the kitchen, boy, and you just might eat tonight!" the voice of his Aunt Petunia screeched.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," he said clearly. He had learned not to mumble because of the potential beatings he could receive. He hurried to the kitchen and busied himself with the dishes. He worked as quickly as possible because he was hungry. He worked carefully too so he could actually eat the food he wanted. He hurried about sighing whenever his stomach rumbled; he was so hungry! He finished cleaning the kitchen and stood in the door way as he usually did. His aunt walked into the room and inspected every inch of the kitchen but found nothing so he was given his usual meal. He ate it as quickly as possible, cleaned the dish, and went back to his cupboard.

That night, he wished, like he always did, that somehow he would get taken away from this place and this horrid life he led. He was just a child, and he's been through more than most grow ups have ever thought about. He knew wishing never worked, but he couldn't help it. For some reason, he just couldn't stop believing in magic. That night he went to sleep with the thought of magic and escape floating around in his head.

Harry woke to a banging on his cupboard door and pieces of plaster falling into his hair. He quickly jumped up and made his way into the kitchen where his aunt and uncle were sitting. He started on frying the sausages and bacon, while simultaneously cracking a few eggs into a bowl. He went through the familiar chore without really acknowledging the fact that he had done it. He set two plates filled with food on the table, one for his uncle the other for Dudley, his cousin, and began to fill another plate for his aunt.

"Boy!" his uncle barked sounding and looking like a rather large walrus.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon?" Harry asked immediately. It was a reflex: answer or get a beating.

"You'll be going with us to the zoo but only because Miss Figg broke her leg," Vernon grunted. "None of your freakish nonsense or you'll wish you'd never been born, you understand?" He pinned Harry with a beady-eyed glare.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry said. He had no choice really. He didn't want a beating but sometime today he was going to get one anyway. It was Dudley's birthday and that meant that he was going to blame something on Harry. He could be the perfect angel all he wanted but the beating was inevitable. Harry didn't care; this happened whenever Dudley was in the mood. If Dudley knew what the pain felt like then maybe he wouldn't wish these beatings on Harry.

Hours later Harry was following his relatives around the zoo minding his own business. He wasn't bored nor was he interested in being someplace that was more pleasant than his cupboard. His favorite exhibit had been the jaguars, and he had made sure that his 'caregivers' hadn't seen that. He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment as he say Dudley and his friend Peirce jumping excitedly while pointing at the penguins. He stood back watching the rest of the families surrounding the cage. He spotted a rather bushy-haired little girl, looking somewhat bored and rolling her eyes at a man who seemed to be her father. He watched as she said something that made her father smile and laugh, while she tried to keep a stern expression on her face. After a while she gave up and smiled too. Harry wondered what his parents would be like if they were still alive, and if they would act like this little girl and her father.

He was called back to reality with a harsh call from his uncle, calling the attention of the bushy-haired girl. Harry followed his uncle into the reptile house and was unaware that the little girl and her father were following at her insistence.

"Come on you ruddy thing! Move!" Dudley called to the snake, which obviously was too lazy or sleeping to heed the birthday boy's call.

Harry rolled his eyes and waited for his cousin to move before siding up to the glass. "You look a bit lonely… I know what that feels like…" Harry muttered more to himself than anyone else. He wasn't watching the snake, which had raised its head to stare at the boy; he was looking at the little girl and her dad again. "They never give you a moment's peace and they lock you up in a tiny room…" he didn't realize that he was talking at all. "You've got no one. No Family, no one to care…" he glanced at the snake and saw it watching him. "You just want out, don't you?" At the snake's nod Harry chuckled. "I wish I could help, but I'm just a kid…"

"Dad, dad, look it's moving!" Dudley pushed him to the side and the back of Harry's head hit the floor as he landed. He was disoriented for a moment before sitting up and glaring at Dudley. Before he could say anything, the glass of the cage disappeared, causing Dudley, who was leaning on it quite heavily, to fall into the enclosure.

The snake slithered out and away from the fat boy and paused next to Harry. "Thanksssss, kid, look me up iffff you vissssit Brassssssil," he hissed and slithered away from the scrawny boy without waiting for a response. Harry looked up to see his uncle glaring holes into his body and sighed before just lying back on the ground in defeat.

A shadow came over his body and he looked up to see the bushy-haired girl standing there looking at him with a worried expression. "Are you alright?" she asked. Harry noticed that her voice was soft and filled with worry.

"Yeah," Harry replied. "I'm alright." He added a silent for now at the end of that statement. He was in for it when he got back to Number Four.

"Then why are you just lying there?" she asked. Her voice was still laced with worry.

Harry was going to make up a lie but for a reason unknown to him he said, "Because I'm in big trouble for what I just did."

The girl looked at him like he was crazy. "What did you do?" she asked.

Harry looked at her for a moment then decided to tell her. "That," he pointed at Dudley banging on the glass of the enclosure. "I know it's not possible, really," he sighed, "but things like this always happen around me."

She was about to say something else when his uncle came up to them and hauled Harry to his feet. "I've had it up to here, boy!" he spat, positioning a hand over his head to demonstrate the level of whatever he had, had up to that point. "Go! To the car! Now!" he growled, splattering Harry's glasses with spittle.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry said clearly and turned on the spot to exit the reptile house. He was walking away but stopped as he realized he forgot to say goodbye to the girl. He turned again, saw his uncle glaring at him with a passion, and said to the girl, "Bye, thanks, though."

"For what?" she asked as her father came to stand behind her.

Harry looked at her for a moment, wondering why he was doing this. He wouldn't usually talk to strangers so openly, or care if he thanked someone for caring, but this girl… she was different; he could feel it. "For asking," he said. He turned again and made his way out of the zoo. He would probably never see that girl again. He found himself standing outside the car for thirty minutes until his relatives and Peirce got back to the car.

The ride home was silent. Harry knew he was in trouble but didn't particularly care. He would get whipped when they got to Number Four, and he would be put into his cupboard for a week with no food. It was expected. It was brutal. It was Harry's life at Number Four. The car stopped and Harry sighed. He wouldn't say he wasn't scared because he was, but he wasn't going to let them see that. His uncle would beat him senseless. Maybe he would pass out before the beating was over; he considered himself lucky whenever that happened. He got out of the car and without being told stood in the hallway in front of his cupboard.

He stood there, waiting for the belt to hit him. No matter what he did to prepare himself, he was never ready for the first strike. It hurt like hell, but Harry just hissed in pain. There was no way he'd cry out in front of his tormentor. He was surprised to find that instead of the leather strap of the belt, he was being hit by the buckle. At the fourth strike, Harry couldn't hold back a yelp.

"How…many times… do I have to… tell you… to keep… your… FREAKISHNESS TO YOURSELF!" Vernon managed between strikes. There was always a comment about him being a freak, but Harry wasn't listening. He was trying to block out the pain. He wasn't succeeding, and it was getting harder and harder to stay conscious. In the end, he just let go, giving into the sweet oblivion.

Harry woke in pain. It was also the last thing he remembered. Fitting. He sat up in his cupboard, glad he was small for his age. He'd probably get terribly cramped by the time he was thirteen. He sighed as he realized he was awake hours before everyone else. He was only let out twice a day when he was being punished. Great…

For the last week he had been starved, beaten, and holed up in a cramped, dark space. He was used to it but that didn't make it easier. He was going to be let out today. Something was going to happen today. Harry was ready for it. After a week trapped in his cupboard, he was filled with energy. He was up earlier than usual which was strange, but for some reason he was excited. A few hours of waiting and Harry was let out by his aunt. She ordered him to make breakfast as usual. So he did. As usual. He rolled up his sleeves so they wouldn't catch on fire, and sighed at the burns scarred into his arms. He waited for something to happen, but was disappointed that the morning was as dull as usual.

"Get the mail, Boy!" his uncle ordered.

Harry stood and walked to the door. There was a pile of mail on the floor; on top was a letter addressed to him. It said:

_Mr. H. Potter_

_The Cupboard Under the Stairs_

_Number Four Privet Drive _

_ Little Whinging _

_Surrey_

He wondered who knew so much about him. Surely, he wasn't being spied on… But he was just ten years old, how would he know. He stuffed the letter into his shirt, and walked into the kitchen when his uncle shouted for him impatiently. He was put into his cupboard and took the moment of privacy to open the letter. He flipped the letter over to open it and noticed the wax seal. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry… Was this a joke? For some reason it didn't feel like a joke. Harry sighed and opened it. The letter read:

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand. Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. We await your letter by no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall _

_Deputy Headmistress_

Out of curiosity, he looked at the other page which detailed the supplies. He was surprised at what he found there.

_UNIFORM_

_First year students will require:_

_Three sets of work robes (black)_

_One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

_One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

_One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)_

_Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags_

_COURSE BOOKS_

_All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)__ by Miranda Goshawk_

_A History of Magic__ by Bathilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory__ by Adalbert Waffling_

_A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration__ by Emeric Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi__ by Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions__ by Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them__ by Newt Samander_

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection__ by Quentin Trimble_

_OTHER EQUIPMENT_

_1 wand_

_1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_

_1 set glass or crystal phials_

_1 telescope_

_1 set brass scales_

_Students may also bring an owl OR cat OR toad_

_These can be obtained in London through Diagon Alley (1)_

_PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS_

Harry blinked. He was confused. Where was he supposed to get this? How was he supposed to get there? More importantly, how did he owl them? What did that even mean? Harry decided to take this one step at a time. Get somewhere to buy these things. He'd worry about money later. He got out of his cupboard and walked into the sitting room.

"What are you doing in here, boy?" his uncle growled.

Harry took a deep breath. "I got a letter from Hogwarts. I'm going, and I need you to take me to London," he said.

His uncle's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets and his face turned a deathly purple. Harry knew that look. It was the "I'll-beat-you-into-next-week" look. "What did you say?"

"I'm going to Hogwarts, and I need a ride to London," Harry said. He wouldn't back down. He'd go; he'd get away from this horrible place. It's what he was waiting for his whole life. He'd live on the streets if he had to. "You can either give me bus money or drop me off in the morning on your way to work, but I'm leaving. I'll never come back."

Vernon and Petunia seemed to stop and consider this for a moment. Vernon suddenly said, "I'll drop you off, but if you ever come back I'll kill you myself!"

"I don't plan to," was all Harry said before going back into his cupboard. He was leaving, he was really leaving!

_**Author's note: I hope you like it! Please tell me what you thought and I'll continue it. if you lot hate it then well… bah! **_

_**1: That line was added for the purpose of getting Harry out of there. Everything else is from the book verbatim. **_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's note: First of all, I went to see Deathly Hallows Part 2 on Saturday. I was speechless. The duel was amazing, Neville was spectacular, and, most importantly, the "I'll go with you" moment proved the existence of H/Hr. I'm not kidding. You'll know it when you see it if you haven't yet. I swear, no matter how it ended, Harry and Hermione belong together, and that proved it. Sorry, I got excited and started babbling… Anyway, if you haven't seen it, you need to! The end of an era, the beginning of something better. I just don't know what it is yet. We'll know when we see it. In my heart I feel like I lost a best friend. I know that Harry Potter will always have an amazing fan base no matter how old it is, and that's what makes it one of those culture changing, life transforming eras, like the Beatles. Harry Potter changed my life, and I can only hope that it changes many others for the best. **_

_**After all these years, I just want to say one more thing: may your mischief always be managed. **_

Harry often wondered what real families were like, and as he stood by a large telephone booth, he realized he hadn't found his yet. More accurately, he thought, he'd lost his and was looking for a new one. He sighed and made his way down a random street; he wasn't really paying attention to where he was going because he was thinking about what to do next and the family issue. He decided that moping about a family he didn't have was rather useless, and he turned down an alley street where he saw the oddest sign. _The Leaky Cauldron_. That didn't seem to be a normal name for any type business and he remembered the word from his supply list. Harry didn't really know what to think but figured there was no harm in finding out exactly what this place was. He entered the seemingly abandoned building and was surprised to see people dressed in robes and tables cleaning themselves. He went up to the barman and asked, "Excuse me, but could you tell me where Diagon Alley is?"

"'O course! Right this way, lad," The man said cheerfully. "Name's Tom," he said leading Harry to the back of the pub. They entered a store room which had Harry look around suspiciously. Tom pulled out his wand and tapped a seemingly random pattern on the bricks. Harry was watching the wall and was amazed to see the bricks jump out of the way, revealing a number of shops on a long cobblestone street. There were people bustling all along the street in a hurried manner. "The bank's down the street, biggest building made of white marble."

"Thanks," Harry said. He made his way to the bank. That solved half of his money problem, but he needed money. He was busy examining everything his way to the bank, that he almost missed it, as impossible as that seems. He walked up the steps with an expression of reverence. The word _Gringotts_ carved into the building in all capital letters and inlaid with gold. He saw a short mean looking creature in a gold and scarlet uniform standing outside a pair of bronze doors. The creature bowed to him and he bowed back, just being polite. He saw the surprised look on the creature's face and suspected that the creature didn't greet many polite people. He walked further and came upon a set of silver doors with an inscription engraved on them:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sins of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly for their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

There were two more of those creatures that bowed to him, and he bowed back to them. They also looked surprised, but Harry shrugged it off. He had things to do. He walked up the isle and stopped at the desk of one of the creatures that was looking at an assortment of precious stones. He looked down at Harry as if he were scum but Harry didn't show he was intimidated.

"Excuse me, sir; I was wondering where I could get money, some type of loan maybe…" Harry trailed off. There was another expression of surprise on the creature's face. Harry wondered why once again.

"Name?" the creature asked in a sort of growl.

"Harry Potter," Harry replied.

The creature paused, "You already have an account with us."

Harry paused. "Oh… Well, is there some way I could see my…" he paused looking for the right word, "my assets."

"Of course. This way, Mr. Potter," the creature said. He led Harry to another room which had a set of solid oak doors. When the creature left him there, he looked around and examined the many book titles that lined the walls. Some were in a strange writing that he didn't understand and some were books on warding and other things. Harry wondered what these things were but figured that's what he would be learning in Hogwarts.

Harry started when the door opened. He saw another creature and vaguely wondered what exactly there creatures were. The creature motioned for Harry to sit and took a seat himself. "You are Mr. Potter, correct?" The creature asked.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, fidgeting in his seat.

"To confirm your identity we need a drop of your blood," he said procuring a knife. Harry nodded and made a small incision on the pad of his thumb. The cut was held over a small golden bowl and a few drops went in. The bowl glowed softly for a moment before a key appeared on the table with a small 'plink.' "Ah, yes… The Goblins know this key well; it's been used in your family for more than a few generations," the goblin said. There was a slight rustling as what Harry now knew to be a goblin was looking through a file that wasn't there a moment ago. Harry was about to ask a question but was stopped when the goblin said, "Now, Mr. Potter, you must be aware that you cannot gain your full inheritance until you reach the age of thirteen. Gaining said inheritance would make you an adult in the both the Muggle and Wizarding worlds. You wished to see your assets; here they are." He handed the Harry a piece of folded paper and Harry glanced at it. Harry hid his surprise at the number of zeros. "Do you wish to do any other business today?" The goblin asked as Harry handed the paper back to him.

Harry cleared his throat and said, "I'd like to make a withdraw."

Harry had a bag of gold in his pocket as he walked down the street. He wasn't sure where to go first, but decided he would need something to put all his school supplies in. He looked around and spotted a sign that had a trunk on it. He made his way there and went inside. There was a bit of a queue. He stood behind a couple and their daughter. Her hair looked familiar and he was sure he'd seen her before but tried brushed it off. He kept thinking about it and sighed softly in frustration. He was about to speak to her when she spoke, "Daddy, I was wondering if I could get a few extra books…"

Harry choked on the breath he was taking as he heard her voice. The girl from the zoo; that's where he'd seen her. He was still coughing as they turned around to look at him. He took a deep breath and hit his chest a few times. He cleared his throat and smiled at them briefly to show he was alright.

"I know you," the girl said. She was studying him as if trying to figure him out or quite possibly trying to look into his soul. It was an odd thing to think, but she was staring rather intently. He opened his mouth to say something when she said in that same soft voice she used at the zoo, "You're the boy from the zoo, the one who thanked me…"

Harry nodded and said, "Yeah, and you're the girl who asked if I was alright." He was kind of glad that he actually got to see her again. Maybe they were meant to meet again, but he didn't believe in fate.

She smiled at him, showing her buck teeth a little. "Where's your family?" she asked. The question made her frown as if she might be remembering something extremely unpleasant. Harry, for one, didn't doubt that. Anyone who had ever been within a ten yard radius of his uncle would be frowning at the mention of him.

He was tempted to make up an excuse like 'they're in the next shop' but stopped because of the same feeling that he had at the zoo; the one he didn't know. "They're not here."

Her mother spoke up asking, "Why not?" She seemed to think his family was rather negligent, if you were to go off of her tone and the slight frown on her face. She didn't know how right she was.

He studied her for a moment. She had almost the same facial features as her daughter, the same smallish nose and shape of the eyes. Instead of the warm, curious brown eyes she had a deep blue-green that was very intense. She looked kind enough, though. He went with a half truth, "They dropped me off; they're very busy."

The adults looked pleased at this, outwardly at least, but their daughter looked dubious. He knew why: she had heard the way his uncle talked him. Thankfully, she didn't press the subject and said, "I'm Hermione Granger."

Harry smiled as kindly as he was able, which was rather hard for someone who had no reason idea what a truly kind smile was, "Harry, Harry Potter. It's nice to see you again."

Hermione smiled as well, he must have done something right, "Yes, it is. Are you going to Hogwarts?" She seemed genuinely excited and interested. Her smile got wider with each passing moment. Harry thought her cheeks might split apart.

"Yeah, first year." He said. Maybe, for the first time in his life he could have a friend. He didn't really know how to do that, though. It was worth a shot.

She smiled like it was the best news she had heard in her life. "Me too!" she exclaimed. She was practically bouncing with excitement. Harry smiled at her exuberance; she was cute. He grinned as she began chattering about anything and everything she was expecting at Hogwarts. Harry got a few words in, as well, but mostly he was content to let her talk. He parents looked at each other worriedly and her mother looked like she was about to say something before the salesman came up to them. They placed their order and were pleased they wouldn't have to lug around a huge trunk. Hermione's parents said it was time for them to leave when Hermione suddenly asked, "Since Harry's here alone can he come with us to buy supplies?"

Harry was surprised but said, "That's alright, I'll find my way around." He didn't really want to wander around alone, but he didn't want to bother them either. He was quickly over ruled by Mrs. Granger and Hermione. They insisted so he conceded. He placed an order for his trunk, the simplest trunk they had, and had the man shrink it so he could put it in his pocket. He was told to tap it once with his wand to make it normal size when he wanted.

"Where to first?" Mr. Granger asked. He was smiling like he already knew the answer, and Harry would bet his vault that he did. Mr. Granger's eyes were twinkling mischievously.

Hermione was bouncing excitedly again, "The book store!" They made their way to the book store, Flourish and Blotts, and stayed there an hour longer than necessary to satisfy Hermione. Harry also bought a few extra books. When her parents started to call for them, he managed to get her away from the books by reminding her about the rest of their school supplies. They went to a few different stores and managed to find everything they needed. All of their shopping was done except for their wands.

They stopped in front of a shop that had the words _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C._ in peeling gold letters over the door. They walked in and found no one in the shop. Harry became wary of this place where this strange atmosphere was twirling and making him uneasy. He felt so much energy in this place that it was making him feel a little sick. A part of him seemed to think that he was feeling magic and not energy. It was probably right, it usually was after all.

Harry watched as an old man appeared from the back of the shop. "Ah," he said, "yes, here for your wands, I expect." They were about to answer when he continued, "Of course you are. You first, young lady, hold out your wand arm." She did so. A measuring tape flew out of his hand and started to measure her arm, her height, her fingers, and so on. Some measuring was important, but the space between her nostrils really wasn't necessary, Harry thought. "Name?" the old man said suddenly appearing nearer to them.

"Hermione Granger," she said. She seemed confused. Maybe she was wondering about the nostril thing too…

The man was silent for a moment before saying, "Yes, here we are! Try this one…" Hermione grabbed it and he immediately pulled it away. "No, this one," he said. Then he pulled it away again. He did this several times, making her wave some of them sometimes. Then, suddenly, purple sparks flew out of the wand she was holding. "Yes, yes this is the one!" Ollivander said happily. "Ten and three-quarter inches, dragon heartstring, vine, and flexible. Excellent for charm work and transfiguration." He paused. "That'll be seven galleons."

Harry was called up next. "Name?" the old man asked during his measurements.

"Harry Potter," Harry said.

"Potter, you say?" Ollivander said pausing. "Ah, yes I remember your parents well…" There was a pause as the man got lost in his memories. "Your mother got the swishy willow, ten and a quarter inches long, nice for charm work. And your father! Yes, Mahogany, eleven inches, pliable. Made for transfiguration, very powerful." This was unexpected, and Harry didn't know what to think; no one had ever told him anything about his parents. "Yes, well, let's get on with it then!"

Harry's wand choosing went on for a bit longer than Hermione's. Harry was getting rather bored with the whole thing, but knew he needed a wand so he kept quiet. Then, finally, something remarkable happened. Mr. Ollivander handed him a wand saying, "Try this one. Phoenix feather, eleven inches, cherry, supple, great for defense and transfiguration." He grabbed it and felt the air around him swirl and warm up. Red spark were shooting out of the tip of his wand. He grinned knowing they were finally done. "Ah, Yes… The wand finds the wizard, as always." Harry thanked him and paid his seven galleons and left with the Grangers.

Harry was listening to Hermione chatter about anything and everything as he sat at one of the tables in the _Leakey Cauldron_ with the Grangers. This was the best day he'd ever had, no Dursleys, no beatings, no cupboard. He could get used to this. He realized that he shouldn't get his hopes up though.

"Harry, where are your parents?" Mrs. Granger asked. Her eyes were filled with concern, definitely not something he was used to.

Harry paused, looking down at the table and tracing the grain of the wood. There really was no easy way to tell people these things. "My parents are dead…" he all but whispered.

Mrs. Granger looked at him sadly and asked, "Who do you live with then?"

"My aunt and uncle," was the automatic response. He couldn't tell them that he was never going back; they would just ask why and that was a sensitive matter. It was better to pretend that he still lived there for a while at least. He quickly thought up a lie, "They said they'd come pick me up around eight o'clock or half past. They have jobs that keep them busy all day…" Harry hoped that this was acceptable.

There was a moment that the two adults looked dubious but Hermione interrupted them with the question, "I've been wondering… Where did you get that scar?"

"Hermione Jane Granger!" her mother exclaimed, shocked.

Harry didn't want her to get in trouble so he quickly said, "It's alright, Mrs. Granger, really." He smiled sadly at Hermione before responding, "I've had it all my life. My aunt and uncle told me I got it in the car crash my parents died in, but I know it's not."

Hermione frowned, obviously not satisfied with the vagueness of his answer. "So, how exactly did you get it?" she asked. "If you don't mind me asking…" she added hastily at her mother's stern look.

"I don't really know," Harry sighed. He really didn't. He knew how his parents died, but not where his scar came from, although he had suspicions. "I mean, it could have been the car crash, but when my aunt told me about it she looked like she was making it up." He was lying. He wanted to tell her the truth, that his parents were tortured and this probably came from a knife, but her parents probably wouldn't like that. If he ever got the chance, he knew he'd tell her the truth. Part of him wasn't ready to tell anyone, so he'd wait.

Suddenly, a tall stern looking woman came up to their table and said in a think Scottish accent, "Mr. and Mrs. Granger, I take it you're ready to go."

"Ah, yes," Mr. Granger said standing. "We best be on our way. Come on, Darling," he directed at Hermione.

"Hello, Professor McGonagall," Hermione said with a smile. She hopped up and turned to go, but before she left she turned to Harry and said, "Bye, Harry. I'll see you on the train."

The Professor paused and looked closely at him for a short moment. "Harry? Harry Potter?" she asked, completely stunned.

Harry watched her warily for a moment, "Yes, Professor."

"I knew your parents," she explained. She stared at him for a moment. "You look so like your father… but not your eyes. You have your mother's eyes…" she trailed off; her voice was softer, less stern. She collected her thoughts and cleared her throat. "I hope to see you at Hogwarts, Mr. Potter," she said in her stern tone.

Harry smiled slightly, "I hope to see you too, Professor, and thank you." He watched them go and waved at Hermione when she turned around to look at him again. He sat there for a few more moments and then he went up to the barman. "Excuse me, how much does a room cost?"


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's note: Okay, guys… I'm sorry for the wait, but when school starts, it starts with a load of work… I've been in school for two months and I started this chapter three months ago… That's how much free time I've not been able to procure. Anyway, here's chapter three. It's a bit short, but it has a lot in it. Anyway, I love you all, you're my favorite, and never stop being "supermegafoxyawesomehot!" Oh, and enjoy!**_

In the month and a half that Harry spent at the _Leakey Cauldron_ he had never been happier. No one bothered him and he was content with that. He would wander the streets of Diagon Alley, just content to do whatever he pleased. Sometimes, he would wander into one of the stores, Flourish and Blotts being the most frequent, and look around. Very rarely, he'd buy something.

One day when he was wandering, he caught sight of a shop called Eeylops Owl Emporium and decided to take a look inside. It was filled with owls hooting in cages seemingly trying to catch his attention. He looked around and saw a flash of white to his left in the almost complete darkness. He walked over and saw amber eyes staring at him with an expression that seemed to say, _'Where have you been?'_ Ten minutes later, he walked out of Eeylops with a snowy owl in a large silver cage.

That was the most exciting thing that had happened to him all summer and he was glad. Exciting usually meant bad when he was concerned. The last day of August Harry decided to ask the barman, whom he had gotten to know very well, how to get to King's Cross station as quickly as possible and where he could find platform nine and three quarters. He was told to stand on the edge of the street and stick his wand out and get onto the Knight Bus and tell them he wanted to get to King's Cross. As for platform nine and three quarters, he was to find platforms nine and ten and run into the wall in between them. Harry was doubtful, but had decided to take his word for it.

The next morning Harry was sitting on the Knight Bus holding on as tightly as possible and trying not to look out the windows. Things were moving so fast it looked like they were spinning. He had opted to arrive at King's Cross early so he arrived at 9:30 AM. By 9:50, he had found an empty compartment and was fairly sure that no one would bother him. He was looking forward to seeing Hermione again though, which surprised him. Usually, he wouldn't be so eager because of his past, but he doesn't like to think about that anymore. Harry can't say that he'll be positive about the future; possibly cautiously optimistic with a touch of realism. By 10:15, he accosted by no less than ten people asking if he had seen a Neville Longbottom. Although, he knew who the boy was from reading the books he had bought he didn't really care. Harry hadn't thought much of the boy. He had defeated this "Voldemort" character at the age of one but that didn't make him a hero, did it? He probably didn't even remember. Harry was forced to endure constant interruptions and had about had it. By 10:34, Hermione had found him. He was grateful because that meant that he wouldn't have to endure the interruptions alone. He was very happy about that fact. He had a short temper with repetitive things (probably why he hated Dr. Seuss). Anyway he was glad that he now had his friend. She was his friend, right? She was rather sweet, very nice, and not to mention cute. Harry had no idea where this thought had come from but realized he had thought it the other day, too.

He was just telling her about how he found Hedwig when rather suddenly their peaceful compartment was invaded by two young boys about their age. One had obnoxious red hair and freckles, a ginger if Harry remembered correctly, and a slightly pudgy boy with a lightning bolt scar on his forehead. Harry realized that the latter was the allusive Neville Longbottom.

Hermione cleared her throat and in true, what Harry was beginning to call, Hermione fashion asked bluntly, "Don't you know how to knock?"

The two boys looked surprised that this would be said to them and the red haired one replied, "Why do you wanna know?"

Harry, who was already annoyed and did not want to deal with stupidity, said, without tact, "You just barged in here without doing it, you prat." Hermione gave him a warning look and he tried to rein it in.

Longbottom and the red head frowned and the former replied, "I was getting swamped by fans. I'm the Boy Who Lived! This is Ron Weasley by the way."

Harry shared an exasperated look with Hermione. She was the one to speak: "That doesn't give you the excuse of barging in on us. That was rude!"

Neville Longbottom rolled his eyes and turned to Harry, "Who are you then?"

Harry frowned and grit his teeth. Just like the feeling that made him tell her all those things, he realized that he was very protective of her. "_She's_ Hermione Granger and I'm Harry Potter."

Neville smirked, "You mean you're the kid whose family got tortured and killed?" At Harry's surprised look he said, "All the purebloods know about you; the Potters were a powerful family. Not as powerful as mine of course…" Harry decided he didn't like Neville Longbottom at all. "I heard that's where you got that scar. It's ugly you know…"

Hermione had turned white at the mention of torture but fought back when Neville said his scar was ugly. "You're wrong! It's not ugly, you're ugly! You're whole being is ugly! Get out before I hex you out!" Hermione yelled this all at them, her face turning red with anger. The two boys didn't need to be told twice and left rather quickly.

Harry had been staring at the window since the barb had been made his scar, the torture his parents went through was hard enough to think about. If Longbottom had stooped that low then he wasn't worth it, was he? That didn't make it stop hurting though… It didn't stop the fact that he still heard them… their screams, their pleads for his life, the proof that they loved him and each other with all their heart.

His name being called brought him back to the present, "Are you alright?" Harry nodded smiling a little. "Do you want to talk about it?" He sighed and shook his head. "Well, if you ever want to, I'm here."

Harry met her eyes and smiled a bit brighter than before. "Thanks, Hermione…"

Hours and a change into their robes later, they had arrived in Hogsmede Station and met up with a fairly large man named Hagrid calling for the first years. Weasley and Longbottom were pushing the others out of their way and greeting Hagrid rather enthusiastically. Harry saw Hermione roll her eyes and mutter something rather rude to them under her breath making Harry snort with surprised laughter.

Moments later, they were sitting in a boat on their way across the lake. Unfortunately, they were in a boat with a rude blonde boy that was just as pompous as Longbottom. He was going on about his father and the school and 'mudbloods.' Harry knew what that meant from the research he had done in Flourish and Blotts and didn't like it one bit. He was insulting Hermione, and Harry wasn't going to let that happen.

"My father says that the mudbloods shouldn't be allowed; I agree, of course. They're a complete waste of space," The boy said, obviously expecting everyone to agree.

"Shut up," Harry said clearly.

"What did you say?" the boy rounded on him.

Harry glared, "You have no right to say that about muggleborns; they have just as much right to be here as you do!" Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hermione's eyes light up in understanding. "So, shut it!"

The boy glared back, "You're not one of _them,_ are you? What's your name?"

Harry didn't bother to answer the boy's questions and rolled his eyes. Hermione, however, said, "He's Harry Potter…"

There was a pause and then the boy smirked. "Potter, eh? That the same Potter whose parents were killed by You-Know-Who's followers? My father told me about them. How's it feel being an orphan? You're almost as famous as Longbottom, for a different reason though." There was a short pause. "That where that ugly scar came from?"

Harry stiffened and glowered at the boy. He was going to punch something, preferably the boy's face, until Hermione grabbed his arm and gave him a pointed look. "It's not ugly!" Hermione shouted. "You should learn to shut your mouth because one day you'll regret ever opening it!" Harry thought that he deserved more than a telling off and told Hermione in a whisper. She disagreed but understood where he was coming from. "If they start saying thing like that it's just to get a rise out of you. They're not worth it, Harry," she told him. He knew she was right…

Hoping not to run into anyone else who might insult them, Harry and Hermione disembarked from the boats and walked into the castle slightly separated from the rest of the first years. He had a feeling that this might become a trend.

Harry had no idea what they were going to face, but he was ready. He glanced over at Hermione and asked, "Nervous?"

She nodded. "We have no idea what we're going to face in there, Harry! What if knowledge isn't enough? What if I freeze?"

Harry hadn't known her for any great length of time, but he knew she would never freeze. "I don't think you'd freeze," he said. "Besides, you have me with you and I think we'd be a great team."

Hermione grinned at him, "Better than the founders?"

"Of course," Harry smirked, causing her to laugh.

They were called to attention by Professor McGonagall and told them about the houses. Harry thought that Gryffindor would be okay, but he knew that he would go wherever Hermione was. He felt like there was nothing that could separate them despite how little they knew about each other.

Harry focused on what Hermione was saying. "The ceiling's enchanted to look like the sky; I've read all about it in _Hogwarts, A History_." Harry smiled and they continued to whisper to each other.

"May I have your attention please?" Professor McGonagall called out in the hall. "The sorting will begin shortly; here is the Hogwarts Sorting Hat."

The Hat seemed to wheeze for a moment as it sat on the old stool and then an old, high, winded voice sang:

"_Oh you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find _

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all. _

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you _

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindor apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid to toil;_

_Or, yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind, _

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means _

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're safe in hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a thinking cap!"_

The hall burst into applause and quieted as Professor McGonagall stepped up to the stool and pulled out a roll of parchment. "Abbot, Hannah," she called.

The hat was placed on her head and was silent for a moment before it shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!" Susan Bones went into Hufflepuff too, but before her Terry Boot was put in Ravenclaw. Millicent Bulstrode was put into Slytherin, Harry thought she looked like she'd belong there.

After the first few names, Harry tuned out the hat and everything else and focused on the possibility that this was too good to be true. What if he was sent back to the Dursleys? What if he was forced to stay in that cupboard forever? What if he had to endure those blasted beatings for the rest of his life?

"Granger, Hermione," was called and Harry snapped himself out of his thoughts. He had to know where she was going. The Hat seemed to have a hard time deciding where she should go, because it stayed atop her head for a full minute. Suddenly it shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" Harry clapped and gave Hermione a smile as she walked over to the table. Longbottom went into Gryffindor making Harry roll his eyes; he was going into Gryffindor no matter what because there was no way he'd let Hermione deal with that boy alone. The unpleasant bot that Harry had told to shut up was put into Slytherin. Parvati Patil was sorted into Gryffindor, but Padma Patil was sorted into Ravenclaw. There were a few more sorted and then it was Harry's turn.

He went up to the stool and sat. His palms were sweating and he was shaking just a bit. The hat was placed on his head and he heard: "_Well, well, well, looks like we a powerful wizard on our hands… you'd do well in Slytherin, but you don't want to go there, do you?_" Harry told the hat that he'd rather be in Gryffindor. "_I see… to be with your friend… Right then, better be…_" "GRYFFINDOR!" the whole table cheered and he went to sit next to Hermione. She looked like she was going to hug him and Harry was glad she didn't; he wasn't fond of physical contact. They waited out the rest of the sorting and rolled their eyes as Weasley was sorted into Gryffindor.

When the last name was called and sorted into Slytherin, Dumbledore stood and said, "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" and he sat down as food appeared at the tables.

Harry looked at Hermione and raised his eyebrows. "He's a bit mad, isn't he?" he asked her.

"Mad? Albus Dumbledore? No, no, he's a genius, isn't he Gred?" a red haired older boy who looked like Ronald Weasley said.

"Right you are, Forge!" an identical boy said. "Although, Percy says he's mad…"

Harry's lips twitched in amusement. At least they didn't act like Weasley did. "I'm Harry Potter," he greeted pleasantly. "This is Hermione Granger."

"Fred and George Weasley-" one started.

"-At your service!" the other finished.

Hermione looked confused and overwhelmed as they continued talking a mile a minute about the school. They were finishing each other's sentences and causing both Harry and Hermione to get whiplash. Harry had a feeling that this year was going to be fun.


End file.
